Write they said. Fun it would be they said.

Here we are once again to celebrate the greatest moments of my blog’s history; looking back at all the tears, blood, sweet, and Bengay used to craft such a blog of incredulousness. This time the party welcomes the news of its second award from another blog, My Two Caps. The blog carries a lot of great posts pertaining to the vast realm of virtual reality and the geekhood we so proudly engage in.
I sincerely thank you for such an honor and since the nomination was granted due to the earlier posts I made about gaming, Better With A Pen shall continue on with the game related news, reviews, and sneak peeks. The news shall also continue on the brother site Gaming The Systems, so don’t fret my dears.

In part of accepting such award there are some rules that follow:

Thank the person who nominated you and link back to them in your post.

Share 7 things about yourself. (Keep in mind that children may read this)

Nominate 15 bloggers you absolutely relish.

Leave a comment on each of these blogs letting them know they’ve been nominated.

So now that the rules are acknowledged, I must acknowledge them myself. 7 little known facts:

I have written an entire novel in my youth, deciding that it would serve a greater purpose as kindling than a readable piece of material.

I’m very outspoken and I don’t let anything stop me from speaking my mind, which gives others the impression that I am an insensitive pompous jerk.

I like to reenact Brian Regan’s standup routines, having the uncanny ability to replicate his voice. (As much as someone doesn’t like it…)

I have never been able to successfully write a poem, as each 15-word heartfelt letter becomes a 15-page heartfelt letter.

I dress like a hipster, but remain classy and suave.

I’m crazily, insanely in love with someone right now, so I thought I should tell the world.

I still enjoy drawing my StickMan Adventures comic series I began in my year at Puerto Rico. It now happens to be on it’s 10th season.

Now here are the 15 blogs that I would like to nominate for this meritorious award:

I’m a pretty outgoing person and I enjoy the adventure life becomes; hell, I’d streak in the snow for a Klondike, but regardless of my spontaneousness there are some things that will never escape from my pie-hole.

You wake up in the morning from a comfortable night’s rest and after a yawn your nose starts to itch. You take one of your digits and shove it in the nasal cavity without second thought, retract it back, and flick the green substance in the air like a tiny cannonball.

We pick our noses (defined by “the insertion of a finger (or other object) into the nose with the intention of removing dried nasal secretions” from our good friend Wikipedia), it’s only a natural habit that was adopted at birth and largely taboo. As much as we hate to admit it we do it whenever and wherever we find the need to, regardless of how gross, disgusting, or pleasantly entertaining it is. Due to harsh criticism by pompous aristocrats, society frowns upon the infamous activity, restricting us from acquiring clean nostrils in public.

So how can we successfully pick our schnoz in around others without compromising our reputations?
There are many ways and among them are:

The Sleeper– You fake a few eye drifters and adjust yourself in a more comfortable position. Moments later you lay your head down on top of your arms and slide one of your hands underneath, giving you a discrete, effective way of extracting the dried mucus.

The Ninja– You’re touring your favorite department store and all of a sudden your sniffer begins to twitch. People are more present than 12-o’-clock at McDonald’s and the goal is mandatory; without hesitation you walk to the clothing department and cautiously slip into one of the racks, where everything can be achieved in one go. Beware of cameras.

The Chronic Cougher– Better practiced with a hoodie or jacket, when duty calls begin with a quiet little cough, followed by a more profound hack with a few chest beatings. Then start the heavy coughing and hide your head behind jacket/hoodie, continuing the cough while loosening the abominable boogers.

The Cover-Upper- Hospitals or doctor offices are as busy as subways most of the time and nose-picking witnesses with a possible staph infection are prone to puking, initiating a chain reaction of undigested lunches being spilled. Prevent this by taking a magazine, immersing yourself in its pages, and tickling your olfactory nerves judiciously.

The Rocketeer- This technique has an increased chance of nosebleeds (therefore definitely not recommended for those who have long fingernails) which involves attentively scanning the area for individuals looking in your immediate direction–when the coast is clear–quickly shove your finger or thumb up your nose, perform a twisting scoop, then remove it and drive it into your pocket before they anyone could blink.

The Aristocrat- The most uncommon of ways involve expending patience as you wait for the opportunity to enter a private room and use a tissue to blow the slime out without sacrificing the cleanliness of your hand. Something to consider if you plan on shaking hands.

Weither you flick-it or wipe-it, these techniques will save lots of blushing, ridicule, disgusted looks, eyebrow raises, and shame. As a relation to the content of this post, remember…

“You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose”.

“Because things are the way they are, things will not stay the way they are. “
~Bertold Brecht

My blog has gone through several renditions throughout its existence, the format for Blogger was too loose for my taste, but allowed expressive creativity. The community that Blogger had was one that limited full publicity for a new-comer such as myself and the only way to get any kind was to advertise the living heck out of it. (It’s inanimate, I know…)

WordPress was the golden ticket into getting others to even take a slight glimpse of what I had to say. The community was rich, full of new to tenured Bloggers that would give their time to read the vast number of posts solely for the support they would want to have. The format was rich, smooth, and easy to use and by the time I was done with the registration I was too antsy to publish it.

The theme was cool, but it felt as if I was missing an important detail…

So I decided that perhaps it was time to clean-out the old layout and update the face of Better With A pen. I’m here to ask–which one of these snazzy themes would look best for my blog?

It’s that time again; the time to slap on those party hats, burst open that confetti, and increase those chances of dying from a sugar overdose. Ever since our last celebration (in which we witnessed the spotlight of the most popular post ever, lots of applause, and empty promises) a lot has happened such as some more crazy posts (as usual), a fellow writer that joined the wonderful WordPress community, and a depressing move from an occupational department to another less interesting one.

Besides that there is one thing that is more paramount than anything else…

That means People from all over wasted took their time to read the contents of my blog 5,000 times! A milestone worthy of an achievement.

…Okay, perhaps not…

But what does deserves one is my short story “Steamship Billy” who won an Honorable Mention in the TDG Create a World Writing Contest. Now it may not seem like a big deal–“Oooo, you got a picture with some girly flowers on it.”–but it’s the first time my writing has received any kind of recognition, and even though I came close to third, it’s worth it all.

So, what will you see in the upcoming months?

More short stories

More GIF’s of supreme hilarity

Additional Blogroll victims friends

A new layout and theme

More posts

Perhaps the next party will celebrate a Freshly Pressed or our next milestone of 10,000 views. Then again I would like to thank all my friends, followers, and guests that have given feedback and read what I had to say.

After contemplating on what my next blog post should be I found myself digging in the thousands (okay, not literally…) of notebooks I had collected over the years and found a small passage in the middle of all the blank pages.
A work of fan-fiction that I was working on and completely forgot about, so I figured I should inject life back into the piece by sharing it for everyone to see.

My first badge glistened in the warm sunlight. A bright grin reflected off of the gold facing that was owned none other than me. My happiness wasn’t so much about beating my first gym it was more of the fact that the Mudkip I found was the perfect candidate to make it happen. The small blue Pokemon hopped onto my lap and showed his unique interest in the small medal.
I handed it to him, gripping it inbetween his small paws as best as he could. He sniffed it, licked it, bit it; generally trying to figure out what funtion it served or why it was in my possession.
“Hmmm, good job.” A female’s voice said from behind. It was Roxanne with arms crossed and wearing her usual look of skeptism. “You worked hard today, I had a good match.”
“Thanks.” I said. It was odd to be conversing with a Gym Leader I just defeated.
“I’ve met a few trainers like you and there’s a similar trait I’ve noticed.”
“Like what?”
“The way you treat your Pokemon.” She said with a nod.
I looked at my Mudkip who grinned happliy back. “How I’m I different?”
“Well,” Roxanne said in thought. “You have a connection with them, It’s difficult to explain, but it’s stronger than anything I’ve known. It’s a special privilege being a trainer, you have a form of freedom we Gym Leaders could never have. We constantly have to watch the levels of the Pokemon we use and if they go past a certain level we have to go and catch a new one, one that qualifies for use in being a punching bag for young trainers like you.”
I almost felt guilty of doing so as her expression showed a form of humility. “You just had to make me feel bad, huh?”
Roxanne laughed. “No, just letting you know that you don’t want to become a Gym Leader. I heard what you said to the guide at the door, you are meant for more than that.”
I pondered at what else I would want to become. Nothing came to mind, then I remembered the Elite Four and the invitation that Sidney gave me. “The-the Champion? Of all Hoenn?”
Roxanne shrugged. “I don’t know, you’ll figure it out.” She then turned around and walked back into the gym building without a word more.

I’m not sure if I should be proud, upset, embarrassed,or even inspired. Either way it was interesting to find something of my past that showed my dedication to writing even as a young lad.

“Sometimes paranoia’s just having all the facts.”
-William S. Burroughs

Paranoia: a thought process believed to be heavily influenced by anxiety or fear, often to the point of irrationality and delusion. Paranoid thinking typically includes persecutory beliefs, or beliefs of conspiracy concerning a perceived threat towards oneself. (e.g. “Everyone is out to get me.“) Making false accusations and the general distrust of others also frequently accompany paranoia.

If the entire world were to congregate in two places; one for those who make decisions based on Paranoia and the other for those who “claim” to be “normal”, the world would tilt a few degrees to one side. Everyone has some degree of paranoia and those who say that they don’t…well…I’ll tickle your fancy and congratulate you on your incredible achievement.
For the rest of us we will prolong our membership to Paranoids Anonymous and search for the paradise known for indispensable peace from people and their harrowing judgements. As a writer (if I have the permission to call myself that from you professional types) paranoia is a daily intake as much as carbs and sugar; just as unhealthy, just as fattening. I can’t help it, every word I inscribe onto a sheet of paper leaves behind a reminiscent feeling that someone, somewhere is going to question why I would even burn the minutes of my life away in such inferior work. (I should refer back to a previous post, but perhaps I shouldn’t)
The inevitability of worry threatens me right as the cursor rests upon Submit, Publish, Send, or Reply and will always do so until I happen to silence my procrastination; the thoughts that fly through my mind consists mainly of “What if they hate it?” or “This will never get any likes.“, I feel as there are all-powerful WordPress admins who read everyone of my posts and deems it as “Readable” or “SHALL THE DEVIL BE SANCTIFIED” material. It would explain the lack of likes and comments that boost my ego which allow me to continue on. (How inflated I would be if this were Freshly Pressed…)

After searching through the W.W.W. or the Worldly Waters of Wackos, I stumbled across blog.davemsw.com and a picture he posted he called as the “Hierarchy of Paranoia”, a simple diagram showing the different levels of social fear.

Where do you rank?

I see myself around the first or second level of Paranoia, the average Joe who believes they are attentively watching your every move and snickering at how terrible your hair looks. A person to be at the fifth stage/level however is one who blames falling over in their chair on someone’s Fus Ro Dah.

Now I’m no expert, but for someone like that is worthy of a Code Brown everywhere they go, but I’m not one to judge…